If you haven’t, be sure to read “Skyscrapers and Juice Boxes” for the beginning of this story.
*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
Theodore, the little boy, and his mother, Karen, were sound asleep as the tunnel lights danced across the windows. My eyes focused ahead of us as far as I could see, to the bright white light of the exit. I’d only ever seen New York in pictures. It was always so close, from Pittsburgh, and yet we had never had the means to go there ourselves. Up until now, it was always a fragment of our imaginations. A little piece of hope that stuck above my bed, taunting me for the last fifteen years.
The white light came closer and closer. Then, finally, it was blinding. I held up a hand to shield myself and my jaw dropped. Everywhere I looked, buildings stretched from the concrete sidewalks to the brilliant blue skies. Pedestrians crowded the streets and cars moved slowly forward, coming and going from the city.
I fumbled for a folded up piece of paper in my ripping maroon JanSport backpack. The address was scribbled on the paper from a discovery of mine two weeks prior.
3F-8 3327 80th St Jackson Heights, NY 11372
Checking my google maps, my eyes grew to the size of golf balls. Why had I bought a ticket to this station? It was at least a thirty minute Subway ride, or worse, about two hours of walking. And I was chancing this big time. Aunt Helena was the odd sheep of the family, and Mom had no idea she was the one I was going to once I arrived.
“Penny,” Karen tapped my shoulder, pointing out the window to the right of us. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“I think so,” I mumbled, even though the storm brewing in my stomach said otherwise. Karen gave my shoulder a little squeeze, adjusting Theodore in her lap as he tugged on her giant shell necklace she had purchased from Goodwill.
“Whatever you do,” she said with a nod, “take the subway. Taxis are a nightmare in this city.”
“Noted,” I nodded to her. “Are you excited to see your husband?”
“Oh, jumping over the moon excited!” She cooed and Theodore giggled again, giving me a toothless grin. He held up a hand to me, staring at me. “It’s been a couple weeks since we’ve seen Daddy, isn’t it?” Theodore just laughed some more in response to Karen, falling onto her chest with one effortless lean forward.
“Thank you for keeping me company,” I gave her a smile. “It was nice to have someone to talk to.”
“It was lovely to meet you, truly. I wish you all the best. And I believe you can do it,” she said with an equally cheerful grin. Karen’s eyes shone as the sunlight beamed down upon us for a brief moment. She turned back to Theodore, checking her bags and grabbing her garbage to toss into a free trash bag.
Turning back to the city outside, I watched as a mix of modern and old buildings flew by us. The bus was racing down West 42nd Street, bounding past the cars and the trucks that surrounded us. We had just missed rush hour, but it didn’t mean that it would make it any less difficult getting from Manhattan to Queens.
The bus turned into a driveway that immediately descended down a ramp. The sunlight disappeared and was replaced by overhead lights. Theodore screeched, getting looks from everyone around us. After some twists and turns past people and other identical Greyhound buses, we came to a stop. People started to get up. I clutched my backpack tightly in both hands.
Single file, we poured out of the bus at the speed of molasses. Any anxiety I was feeling about being alone in the city of my dreams was growing exponentially. My mind was spinning like a washing machine, each thought planting another root of worry within me. Relax, you’re going to be fine.
“Penny, if you need anything,” Karen said as she showed me her phone screen. “This is my phone number.” I hurried to type it into my phone, glancing back up to her as soon as I had.
“Thank you so much,” I put my phone into my pocket. “I hope you enjoy being home.”
Karen gave me a small hug. Theodore gently tugged with a hand at my curly hair, to which Karen and I both giggled.
“I hope to see you around,” Karen pulled away, waving before she disappeared into the terminal. Then I was all alone, with my scribbled estranged aunt’s address in my hands. It was time to place my bets.
The New York Subway was not quite as dirty as I imagined. My friends in university had told me stories, warning me that it was not a pretty sight. But, nonetheless, I put my headphones in, put in a piece of chewing gum, and piled onto the train like everyone else. Curling up in the corner of one of the last cars, I people watched as the city transformed around me.
A grandfather read the paper, sitting with one ankle propped up by his knee cap. A family of five stood holding onto one another. Two twin boys begged their mother for ice cream while the father looked down to them with a look that could kill. Then, a man dressed in ragged clothing with nothing but an empty cheap gin bottle sauntered my way. My eyes widened. I turned up the volume on my headphones, tuning out my anxiety with some Blink-182.
The tall buildings of downtown departed, replacing themselves with apartment buildings and older brick exteriors. People down below changed too. Pedestrians in suits and dresses were exchanged for children and families walking along the streets. Each stop crowds of people exited and even more came onto the train.
I was so enamored by the city. It was so much larger than Pittsburgh. There was so much to see, so much to do. And if things worked out alright, I would have all the time in the world to do so! The fireworks hadn’t calmed inside of me since getting on the bus, before Karen and I even chatted the entire ten hours. Mom would never understand, but this was the best decision I had made in my entire life!
82nd Street station came faster than I thought it would. The family of five and I moved up to the door. The twin boys started screaming, to which their father glared. His face was as red as a cherry. His sons shyly looked down, avoiding him all together. Poor naughty kids.
I left behind the drunken rambles of the unkempt man behind me. The train slowed and I tugged on the pole, staying upright as best I could. The man with the bottle was still looking my direction, asking for money with his hands reaching out to me. Instinctively, I held my backpack tighter to me, feeling the little envelope I had with all my savings.
The doors opened and I rushed out after everyone else. I climbed down the stairs, leaving behind the metal cars. My stomach began to rumble when I smelled Italian food. It wasn’t like Olive Garden, which my mom adored, either. This smelled like genuinely amazing Italian food. As authentic as it comes stateside. My appetite would have to wait though. Aunt Helena was my next mission. Then food.
I had lived in a city all my life, but the passer-byers in New York were unlike those in Pittsburgh. Each person seemed to carry their heads a little bit higher, and their hopes a little bit more towards the clouds. Mom always told me stories about Aunt Helena, and her love for the Big Apple. I, too, was starting to understand why she fell in love with this place.
82nd Street went on forever. Each crosswalk, I waited, checking around me frantically. Then I’d check my watch again. It was like clockwork, except my watch was moving even slower than the line of people exiting the bus only an hour ago.
What if Aunt Helena wasn’t there? What if she didn’t want me here? I bit a fingernail, crossing 34th Avenue and heading west. Only two more blocks now. It was only a matter of time before I knew my answer.
Approaching a tall red bricked building, I looked from the very first floor all the way to the top. There must’ve been at least ten floors. My fingers searched for the little piece of paper I had, the key to my next move. Aunt Helena was on the third floor.
I found the front door, accompanied with a panel of call buttons for each apartment. There had to have been at least thirty different buttons. I finally found the third floor, but there were only odd apartments. Was I at the wrong building?
“Sweetie, can I help you? Did you forget your keys?” A sweet voice called from behind me. I jumped and whipped my head around. Who I locked eyes with made goosebumps spread across my skin. She had mousy brown curls that touched the middle of her back and chocolate eyes that hid behind tortoise shell frames. A small dimple appeared on her right cheek as she smiled.
“I am looking for my aunt’s apartment. I, uh, think I’m at the wrong place,” I said and scratched the back of my head. The sweet voiced lady stepped forward, then she stopped. The dimple disappeared. She loosened her grip on her brown paper grocery bags. “What is it?” I asked her and tightened the straps of my backpack. If she’s crazy, I need to get out of here!
“I’ll be damned,” she chuckled, moving even closer to me. “You look just like your mother, you know that?” I squinted and took another look at the lady in front of me. Then it hit me.
“Aunt Helena?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. She put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a warm smile that brought both of her dimples out of hiding.
“Yes, Penny. Now, why don’t we go inside and you tell me about your journey here, yeah?”
